Perchance to Dream
by Hidden Treasures
Summary: Their days were spent together, inseparable, reacquainting themselves with each other. Their nights were spent alone, each battling their respective demons. Until one night they weren't.


**Perchance to Dream**

 **Summary:** Their days were spent together, inseparable, reacquainting themselves with each other. Their nights were spent alone, each battling their respective demons. Until one night they weren't. Tentoo x Rose

This went in 2135 different directions than I originally intended, but here you go! Have fun! Not beta-ed

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They didn't go back to Rose's flat at first when they first arrived in London. Instead, they spent the first few days of their new life together in the Tyler family mansion. They spent every waking hour in each other's presence, relearning each other, reacquainting themselves with the other, and trying to pretend they weren't aching as badly as the other.

Their nights were spent separately. Rose went back to the bedroom she'd claimed when she was first trapped in this universe, and the one she used whenever she spent the night. The Doctor was given a guest room across the hall from Rose's room.

The Doctor didn't sleep much that first night. His mind was too active, running through the day's events at a million miles an hour, and his surroundings were too unfamiliar. Travelling throughout time and space, he was used to being in different places, and spending the night in some of them, too; but the finality of this place was overwhelming. But the most important addition to his new life was Rose. Rose, whom he hadn't seen in years, and who had crossed universes to find him again. He knew this wasn't how she'd anticipated her journey ending; this wasn't how he'd planned his life going, either. But he was determined to make the best of it, both for himself and for Rose, and hoped that she could, too.

After tossing and turning for several hours, the Doctor eventually gave up on the idea of sleep.

But when asked by Jackie and Rose the following morning, he pasted on a huge smile and said, "Best night's rest I'd gotten in years."

Jackie gave self-satisfied smile. Rose continued looking at him, her eyes dancing across his face, not believing him in the slightest. But she didn't question it.

This pattern went on for a few days. The Doctor and Rose would explore the grounds of the mansion by day, or simply sit in each other's company, reading or watching a movie. At night they parted ways.

Rose watched the Doctor grow more exhausted by the day, his movements becoming sluggish. She caught him napping on the family couch more than a handful of times. But when she asked, he always deflected.

The Doctor knew this newly-human body needed more rest than his previous Time Lord body did. He just couldn't seem to shut down enough for sleep to take him. And when he did, nightmares seemed to plague him at every turn. Before, he'd had the TARDIS as a buffer, and Rose even used to help soothe him. Now he had neither. Well, he had Rose, but he didn't want to impose, or come on too strongly. For all he knew, she was humoring him by spending her days with him, just fulfilling an obligation to the Time Lord.

And with those somber thoughts, the Doctor began fixing up the broken sonic screwdriver he found in one of his pockets as the rest of the house slept.

After they'd been at Jackie and Pete's for almost a week, Rose approached him with a picnic basket and blanket, suggesting they eat by the fish pond Jackie – her mother, not Parallel – had built on the edge of the property.

The Doctor beamed, and took her hand eagerly.

Rose loved the fish pond; it was no bigger than ten feet across, either side, but she loved it. No one ever bothered her here. There was a semi-circle of flowering trees – most were out of bloom, but some were still clinging to the last of their flowers – and various shrubberies of various sizes ringing the pond. There weren't any fish in it, though, courtesy of her mother's habit of starting one project then jumping to another before the first was complete.

Rose laid out the blanket, sat down, and pulled out their lunch: cold cut sandwiches, bottled water, and bananas. The Doctor grinned when he saw the fruit.

"It's an excellent source of potassium, I hear," Rose told him seriously.

They munched quietly on their meal, sitting in a companionable silence.

Rose finally turned to him and said, "I was thinking of moving back to my flat tomorrow."

The Doctor felt like a lead weight had dropped into his stomach. He'd tried to give her her space, but apparently it wasn't enough. This past week had been glorious, spending his days by her side again. Being in the same universe as her again was invigorating enough, but being in the same house, the same room, as Rose again made him giddy with delight.

But maybe she was regretting the decision to stay with him? Maybe she'd grown used to her independence, and felt too smothered by him? What was he to do? He had no money. No place of his own. He couldn't mooch off of the generosity of Pete and Jackie forever. A human lifespan seemed impossibly long and bleak when faced alone…

Just as his panic began to mount, a soft hand touched his, and he recoiled in surprise. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his vision was swimming, and he remembered this body wasn't equipped with a respiratory bypass.

Rose was looking at him cautiously, one hand partially outstretched.

"Doctor?" she asked softly. "You okay?"

He nodded, taking deep breaths, and said, "I'm always alright."

She snorted, her lips curling into a bitter smile that he hated seeing on her face.

"Yeah, me too."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before the Doctor tentatively inched his fingers across the blanket towards hers. He brushed his pinkie against hers, hooking his digit around hers loosely, causing Rose's lips to curl up in a small smile, replacing the tense, bitter lines that had been there. Emboldened by her reaction, he slid his hand under hers, palm up, and waited for her to make the next move. He let out a breath when she linked their fingers together and held on tightly to his hand, her thumb absently massaging his as it had always done.

"You don't have to come with me, if you don't want to," she murmured to her lap.

The Doctor blinked dumbly at her. Rose was still rubbing his thumb, and still staring at her legs, picking at an invisible piece of lint.

"Rose, I don't understand."

She lifted her chin to look at him, and her eyes were hardened and guarded as she replied, "When I said I was going back to my flat. You don't have to come. There's room for you, though, if you want. I talked with Pete earlier. He had the maid service go over and clean and stock the fridge, and make up my guest room, but if you'd rather stay here, you can. I'd understand. There's much more space here. Not as much as you're used to, but more than at my flat."

The Doctor's mind reeled as he processed what she said. She wasn't trying to distance herself from him? She really wanted him to move in with her? She still wanted him? The piece of lead in his stomach melted and the knot in his chest loosened.

He managed to stifle a goofy grin enough to ask, "What do you want?"

She shrugged as she said, "I just want you to be happy here in this universe. I mean, I know I can never replace the TARDIS, or the wonders of the universe, or make up for all the people you would've met on your travels, but…"

She trailed off quietly with another shrug, intently inspecting their linked hands as though they were the most fascinating things she'd ever seen.

Did she not realize how happy she made him? Well, that would have to be rectified, and soon. Not another day would go by that Rose Tyler would have to doubt how much she meant to him.

He smiled softly at her as he squeezed her hand, saying, "I'm happiest when I'm with _you_."

Rose looked at him blankly, as though she didn't process what he was saying, and then the most beautiful smile lit up her face.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yes," he confirmed.

Rose's smile slipped from her face and she started chewing on her lips.

"I, uhm, I'm sorry I've been kind of distant," she murmured apologetically. "It's all been really confusing. It's just gonna take a bit of time. But I really am glad you're here. It's just weird, because there's two of you, you know? And one of you is alone, but here you are, with me. And it doesn't seem fair, does it?"

The Doctor gathered her into his arms when he saw the tears sparkling in her eyes, and murmured, "Shh, it's alright. You've been handling everything beautifully. Just being able to do stuff like this again with you is more than I thought possible. But look at you! Brilliant, you are! We'll get through this together. I promise."

And that was how, the following day, the Doctor and Rose found themselves in Rose's flat, trying to maintain the precarious balance they'd found the day before. When Rose swung open the door to her flat, she stood awkwardly by the front door, wringing her hands as the Doctor took an initial look around.

"It's not much," she said apologetically. "But it's home. Sitting room's here. Kitchen's through there…"

She proceeded to give him the tour, and the Doctor took it all in with rapt attention, desperate to glean information of Rose's life these past few years. But her flat was bare. There were no personal touches or knick-knacks indicating that a young woman lived here. There were a few photos, mainly of Jackie, Pete, and Tony, scattered around, but not much more.

The Doctor vowed to make this place more of a home for Rose. He was determined to give Rose the best life possible, the life she deserved.

"…And here's your room," Rose said, gesturing into the guest bedroom.

The room was very Spartan-looking, sparsely decorated, and the walls were stark-white. A double bed sat against the far wall. A set of towels and a bag of toiletry items sat atop the charcoal-gray duvet, along with the suitcase of clothes Jackie had insisted on buying for him when he first arrived.

"Loo's across the hall," Rose said, thumbing to the door behind her. "There's just the one, I'm afraid. We'll have to share. I've cleared space for your things. Make yourself at home."

The Doctor had trouble making himself at home in his new room. The rest of the flat? No problem. He'd scattered bits of his sonic throughout the sitting room, left dirty dishes in the sink, left the toilet seat up on more than one occasion, and went through her bookshelf within the first week.

But he couldn't get comfortable enough with his room to get proper sleep. The white walls were suffocating and oppressive, reminding him of the white wall Rose had almost fallen into. He shuddered, remembering how close she'd been to being stuck in the Void rather than being stuck in this universe.

Rose watched helplessly as the Doctor ran himself into exhaustion, before crashing on her couch. Most nights they would eat dinner together on her leather sofa while watching a bad film. It used to be one of their favorite activities on the TARDIS; Rose would find a horrible, futuristic sci-fi, and they would spend the evenings laughing at it, while the Doctor pointed out the inaccuracies of the film.

They couldn't do exactly that anymore, but Rose figured that there were still plenty of bad films left on this Earth, and plenty of new ones unique to this universe. The Doctor seemed excited to resume this tradition, and was more enthusiastic about the hand-holding and cuddling than he was before the meta-crisis. Rose was pleasantly surprised with this revelation as she hugged his arm to her chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

But without fail, every evening, the Doctor would fall asleep halfway through the film. Rose was be about to point out one of their favorite film faux pas (decapitation after a single blow) only to find him sleeping soundly, head tipped back and jaw slack.

She'd thought he was just adjusting to being human; she hoped this wasn't going to be a recurring theme for the next fifty or so years. It wasn't healthy. But she was at a loss as to how to help him. Any time she tried to bring it up, he would just smile at her and either assure her he was fine, or quickly jump to another topic of discussion.

So Rose gently woke him after the end of the movie, as she always did. She guided him to bed on the nights he was too groggy to put up much of a fight; other nights he would perk up in an instant, apologize for falling asleep, and pop in another film. She could never stay awake for the second film, and would bid him goodnight half way through, hoping that one day he would trust her enough to talk openly with her.

Then one night, Rose awoke to the sound of whimpering. She opened her eyes, unsure if she actually heard anything, and lay in her bed for a few moments, listening. She heard it again: muffled cries coming from the Doctor's room. She swung her legs out of bed, about to go to him, when she heard the door to his room open. He'd roused himself, apparently.

Perched on the edge of her bed, she listened carefully. She heard him pacing. His shadow suddenly approached her door, and she held her breath, waiting for a knock, or his voice, something. But it never came. She heard his soft exhalation, and his quietly retreating footsteps.

Rose sat back in bed, her heart thrumming in her chest. He'd been right outside her door. Why hadn't he come in? He'd had no qualms before with coming into her room at night, either if he'd had a nightmare or after a particularly nerve-wracking adventure, to just lay with her. Was he not comfortable with her? Did he not want her like that anymore? Were these past few weeks all a lie, and did he really not want to be spending his time, his life, here with her? Was he here to just fulfill an obligation to the other Doctor?

Her breaths came quickly and sharply as panic and doubt began clouding her judgement. She couldn't lose him again, physically or emotionally. She would just have to ask him about it tomorrow, and demand an answer.

But the following day, the Doctor surprised her with a full English breakfast. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he set her plate in front of her, and any doubts Rose had slithered away with the unabashed affection he displayed.

That night, however, Rose slept with her door open, just in case. She heard the Doctor crying out again in his sleep, but before she could get out of bed, she heard him stirring. She waited a few moments until she heard his door opened. She watched her open doorway, and saw him approach. He froze when he saw it was open.

"You gonna come in?" she called softly.

The Doctor paused for a few seconds before sighing and entering. He walked to the foot of her bed and stood there silently, shifting from foot to foot. By now, Rose's eyes had adjusted to the dark, and enough light was filtering in through the window to make out his profile. His hair was standing up in every direction, more tousled than usual. He was wearing a pair of thin cotton pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Rose raked her eyes up and down his toned chest; she'd never seen him in so few layers.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he murmured, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists by his sides.

With no pockets, he seemed to not know what to do with them.

"It's alright," she said truthfully. "This is the second night I've heard you."

The Doctor opened his mouth again, presumably to apologize again, but Rose stopped him.

"I don't care, Doctor," she said. "What I care about is that you haven't said anything. You haven't come to me. You haven't told me that you're having nightmares. You've been so exhausted all the time, and no wonder. You need more sleep now, but you're not getting it. And I should've known, I should've…"

"I didn't want to bother you," the Doctor blurted out, scraping his fingers against the back of his neck. "It's just… I was so happy to be here with you, that I didn't want anything to spoil it. I wanted to give you the space you needed to accept this, to accept me. And they're just dreams, Rose. Nothing I can't handle."

Rose's heart broke. The last thing she'd wanted was for the Doctor to feel as though he couldn't come to her about something, especially with something as important as his nightmares and sleeplessness. No matter, she was here for him now.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and flung back the edge of the duvet beside her, patting the empty side of the bed in invitation. The Doctor stared at her in confusion.

"Well, get in," she said with more confidence than she felt. "It's not like we've never done this before."

The Doctor slipped in beside her, leaving ample space between them. They lay side by side, both tense and stiff. Several times, the Doctor opened his mouth to speak, and snuck glances at her, but clicked his teeth closed again.

After the sixth time, Rose rolled over to face him and asked, "What, Doctor?"

His fingers were drumming against his ribs as his eyes darted around the ceiling. He finally glanced over at her as he asked in a rush, "Could we maybe…rather, could I… if you want to, that is…I'dverymuchliketohaveacuddle?"

Rose stared at him, wondering if she heard him correctly.

The Doctor took her pause as denial and he quickly backtracked.

"That's okay, we don't have to. This is fine. But if it's not, I can go. You know what, I'll just go. The sonic's almost done, I can just…"

The Doctor moved to clamber out of bed, startling Rose into action. She grabbed his wrist, stilling him, and pulled him onto his back. She snuggled into his side, pillowing her head on his chest, and draped her arm across his abdomen. His heart was beating double-time in his chest from nerves.

"This is more than fine, Doctor," she whispered, drowsiness suddenly coming over her quickly.

She smiled into his chest when she felt his lips press into her hair and his arm curl around her shoulders.

After that night, neither the Doctor nor Rose spent another night alone.

They slowly began opening up to each other after that night, too. In the quiet darkness of their bedroom, they slowly began revealing pieces of themselves to the other. It started after one of the Doctor's nightmares.

It had been several days since their new sleeping arrangement, and his sleep had been more peaceful than it had been in years. But his dream had come back with a vengeance.

" _Why don't you ask her yourself?"_

 _Rose? No, she couldn't really mean Rose. Rose was locked away in a parallel universe. Whomever Donna was referring to wasn't Rose. It was not Rose._

 _But he turned, and there she was, just down the road. Rose. And oh, she was beautiful._

 _And then he was running. He was running so fast, desperate to reach his Rose. But his legs felt like lead, like he was running through sand. No matter how fast he pumped his legs, he went slower and slower._

 _She was running to him too, grinning from ear to ear. Now if only his bloody legs would work._

 _Rose suddenly stopped running, her eyes widening, as she turned to look at something to the side._

 _If he thought her smile was beautiful before, it was more radiant now as she turned away from him. He finally saw what had captured her attention: it was the Doctor, the other Doctor, the fully Time Lord Doctor in brown pinstripes. She called out his name and sprinted towards that Doctor, and away from him._

 _His heart bottomed out, and he stumbled, tripped and fell, as he watched Rose turn her back on him._

" _Rose?" he called out hoarsely. "Rose, please!"_

 _He watched the Time Lord catch Rose in his arms, snogging her for all he was worth. His gut churned; he felt sick._

" _Rose, please," he begged from his knees, trying desperately to stand but his legs wouldn't cooperate. "I'm still the Doctor. Please!"_

 _He watched the two of them walk away towards his TARDIS, not sparing him a backwards glance, before…_

"Doctor? Doctor!"

The Doctor was wrenched from his dream, dazed and confused. He bolted upright and began breathing deeply. A thin sheen of sweat was coating his body, and his heart was hammering against his ribs. His stomach was aching and his chest felt heavy and tight as the leftover images of his dream continued to burn their way through his memories. He scrubbed his hands over his face, willing away the images and trying to dampen the emotions the dream evoked.

"Doctor, are you alright?"

His head jerked up at the voice.

"Rose?"

Her hand was gently tracing patterns on his back as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Oh, Rose," he murmured, pulling her into his arms. "My Rose."

She muffled a squeak of surprise, but went willingly. He was trembling in her arms, and his heart was thumping rapidly against her chest. She pressed soft kisses against his neck and shoulder.

"Want to tell me about it?" Rose asked, pulling back slightly as her neck cramped.

The Doctor sighed, letting her sit back. The dream had felt so real. And it so easily could have been. Rose could have said no to him, and gone with the Time Lord, leaving him here alone.

Rose watched as the Doctor sat silently in the dark, working on controlling his breathing. She hated seeing him like this; when he was a Time Lord, he didn't need much sleep, so nightmares were fewer and far between. And he never spoke of them, except a passing comment. She desperately wished he would just talk to her. She loved him so much and just wanted to help him in any way she could; it hurt to see him hurting.

She rested her head on his shoulder again and murmured, "I get bad dreams, too."

The Doctor glanced down at her, his eyebrow lifting in surprise.

"Right after I got trapped here, I would dream that I was back on the TARDIS, that you were waking me up for another adventure," she said softly, a wistful smile coloring her tone. "But, of course, when I woke up, I'd remember where I was, and where you were, and it was like losing you all over again. Sometimes I dreamt that Pete never caught me, and I kept falling; the Void was just me falling and falling into nothingness, forever.

"Now I sometimes dream that I've been left here alone. That neither you or the other Doctor wanted me, and the two of you left to explore the universe together. I'd wake up and get so scared, until I heard you banging about somewhere in my flat, or I'd walk over to your bedroom back at Mum's. Now I can just roll over and touch you, and remember that you're here."

The Doctor scooped her into his arms again, burying his face into her neck.

"Never going to leave you," he whispered fiercely. "I love you."

After a moment, he carefully rearranged them so that they were lying down again. She automatically curled into his side, hugging him tightly.

The Doctor was silent for a few minutes, listening to their breathing, carding his fingers through her hair. He finally took a breath and told her about his dream, which had been the one plaguing him since he'd arrived in Pete's World. He told her about his fears of being left alone, and of losing her, and of not being enough for her.

He finally finished speaking, and Rose was quiet. He feared she'd fallen asleep, but she lifted herself up and away from him. The Doctor's heartbeat increased in anxiety, fearing he scared her off, but he was reassured (pleasantly) when she swung her legs over his hips, straddling him.

"Rose, what're you…?"

Her lips silenced his as she kissed him deeply. He was frozen for just a moment before relaxing into the kiss and returning the pressure. One of his hands moved to rest on her hips, the other moved to tangle in her hair. She sighed into his mouth, and his tongue darted out for a quick taste. He hummed in pleasure as her tongue caressed his.

All too soon they had to pull apart, panting for breath. Rose planted soft butterfly kisses across his face, his forehead, his nose, his cheeks. His eyes fluttered shut on a sigh. Her hands were perched on his chest, keeping her balanced and upright.

"I love you," she whispered, her thumbs tracing small circles on his chest, right over his heart. "I haven't told you yet since you've been here. And I'm sorry. It does need saying, and I should've realized it needed saying to you, too."

The Doctor smiled widely, his heart full to bursting with love for the woman on top of him.

"I want you to know, Doctor, that I'm glad you're here, and that I'm glad I'm here with you," she continued. "These past couple weeks with you have been the best of my life, and I am so grateful to be able to share my life and home with you. I wouldn't trade this for anything. I'm never leaving you, either. You're stuck with me, remember?"

The Doctor pulled her down for another kiss, crushing her body to his so that the length of their bodies was in perfect alignment.

That was the first night they made love.

And after that night, opening up became easier.

Basking in the afterglow, nestled in each other's arms, their quiet voices often filled the darkness. They slowly told each other stories they'd never shared, either of the years before the other, or of the years they'd been apart.

Rose told the Doctor of Jimmy Stone, and what a disaster he'd been; she told him about waiting five and a half hours on the beach, hoping beyond hope that he would somehow be able to slip through and find her; she told him that his early morning wakeup calls on the TARDIS were her favorite ways to wake up, as much as she moaned and complained.

The Doctor told Rose about his granddaughter Susan, and how he regretted never visiting her again, or apologizing to her for just leaving her as he'd done; he told her about Donna, and the effect the meta-crisis had on her, and what the Time Lord most likely had to do to save her; he told her that movie nights on the TARDIS were his favorite times, even though he whined about it being too domestic for him.

But there were still things neither of them discussed. Rose rarely talked about her dimension jumps, or the universe where the Doctor was dead, while the Doctor never spoke about the Master, or his time as John Smith.

Until one night, six months after being left in this universe together, as the sweat was cooling on their skin and their heartbeats were returning to normal, Rose said softly, "It took almost seven months of canon jumps for me to find you again."

The Doctor turned to face her, but she was cuddled into his side, head on his chest, resolutely staring at their clasped hands.

"You'd be surprised how many universes were similar to ours," she said with a laugh, "and then the ones that were so vastly different. Earths with green skies, or poisonous atmospheres, humans that are telepathic, or humans that hadn't yet transitioned to walking on two legs."

The Doctor listened quietly.

"About five months in, I made a jump and I thought I found the proper Earth again," she said wistfully. "It just _felt_ right, y'know. Everything seemed right. But then the sky split open, and these spiky metal balls fell out of it, flying around, killing everyone in sight. Local intel told me that the majority of the world's authority had been killed, and that command was being held on a hovercraft ship. No one was helping these poor people, and I couldn't help either. All I could do was hide until my 30 minutes were over and I could jump back here."

Tears were leaking from her eyes, and her voice was quivering as she remembered back to the battleground of the parallel Earth she'd found.

The Doctor, meanwhile, listened to her story, frozen, his mind's eye taking him back two years ago to the Valiant, when the Master released the Toclafane on the universe. His heart hammered as he recalled the year that never was, and the damage that had been done to the TARDIS, Jack, and Martha and her family. That was one of the bleakest moments of his life, watching one of his oldest friends wreak uncontrollable havoc on the world and his friends, while he sat back and watched helplessly. He'd been lucky to stop him when he did.

And the threats the Master had made against Rose… The Doctor shuddered and pulled her tighter against his chest. That was the one time he'd been thankful she'd been locked away, safe from harm.

Rose felt the Doctor trembling beneath her, and how he'd grown increasingly tense as she recalled her story. She cringed, and mentally cursed herself. She shouldn't have told him this story. He didn't need to know the horrors she saw while trying to find him again. He carried enough weight on his shoulders as is, and carrying this guilt atop of his wasn't his burden to bear.

But the Doctor's voice suddenly said faintly, "That wasn't a parallel world. Well, not exactly."

Rose froze, sure that she'd not heard him right.

She tilted her head up to look at him, but he was staring blankly at the ceiling, eyes glassy and jaw clenched.

"You'd made it back," he whispered. "That was our Earth, for one hellacious year."

Rose stroked his chest gently.

"What happened?"

The Doctor opened his mouth, remembering his oldest friend, who had chosen death over life with him. That still ached enormously. His mouth closed again, Adam's apple bobbing thickly.

"I'll tell you about it another day," he promised, pulling her close and burying his nose in her hair. "I'm just glad you stayed away from that. Enough damage was caused to enough people; I couldn't imagine what might have happened if you'd been there."

Curiosity burned through Rose, but she let the topic die. He said he would tell her some other day, and she believed him. He was much better at keeping his word now than he'd ever been. But she could tell she'd inadvertently brought back painful memories for him, which was the last thing she'd ever meant to do. Rose squeezed his hand and pressed her lips to his sternum, hoping to offer some measure of comfort.

"It wasn't too long after that I found Earth," she said. "Well, the Earth that wasn't being ravaged by those things. Funny thing, I didn't realize it at the time, but I met Donna on one of my jumps."

The Doctor stiffened in her arms.

"When?"

"The night all the little walking bits of fat were flying into the sky," she said. "I saw them and figured you had to be around somewhere. But when I saw them fly away, I knew I'd missed you. You never stay around for cleanup. Then there was this red-haired woman running up to me, telling me about car keys and God knows what else. She was pretty flustered."

Rose laughed to herself.

"You were right around the corner," the Doctor whispered in disbelief.

Rose turned slightly in his arms at the pained tone coloring his voice. His eyebrows were knitted tightly together, and his hand was squeezing hers tightly.

"You were right down the street and I didn't even know," he whispered. "Why didn't the TARDIS alert me? I could've found you! I could've fixed things sooner! I could've…we could've…I wouldn't've…"

"You wouldn't've what?" Rose challenged hotly. "Been created, that's what!"

The Doctor's eyes, which had fallen shut during his tirade, popped open wide. The fury and hurt radiating in Rose's eyes made guilt settle heavily in his heart.

"Rose, I-"

"No, Doctor," she continued crossly. "If you'd found me that night, and I'd told you about the stars going out, maybe we would've been able to fix the problem, maybe not. Most likely not, seeing as you and Donna were the ones who saved us all last time. But let's say you manage to save the universe, then what? What's to say you wouldn't have made me come back here on my own? I'm still human, you would've been a Time Lord; I would have died after another couple of decades. That's a blink of an eye to you, so why bother? But if you did let me stay, what's to say you would've even wanted this sort of relationship we've got now? Unless…"

Rose trailed off unsurely, doubt suddenly clouding her features and choking her up.

"Unless you don't actually want this with me now?"

Her voice sounded small and hesitant as her eyes darted around anxiously.

The Doctor cursed himself, realizing how his earlier comments could have been interpreted. He raised himself up so he was sitting beside Rose, who had pulled their bedsheet up to cover her bare chest. He hated seeing the insecurities on her face, and he hated knowing he put them there.

She was chewing on the side of her thumb, one of her oldest nervous habits. He gently took her hand from her mouth, and twined their fingers, kissing her knuckles.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, trying to catch her flittering gaze. "I didn't mean to imply that I regretted my creation, or our life together. My life with you is the most important thing I have; I don't know what I'd be without it. I just meant that I had been missing you for so long, and you being just around the corner when I thought you were in a different universe is frustrating. It's frustrating, knowing you were so close after all that time. But I am very pleased with how things turned out. I wouldn't trade you, or my life with you, for anything. So, please, never doubt how much I love and want you."

He leaned over and pressed his lips gently to hers. The angle was slightly awkward, though Rose fixed that, when she maneuvered herself to straddle his thighs; the blanket slipped down to reveal her nude form to his eager gaze. He grunted into her mouth, and she slipped her tongue into his mouth, carding her fingers through his hair and scraping her nails against his scalp. He shivered against her and held her tightly against him, rocking subtly against her.

She released his mouth with a wet pop, chest heaving.

"It's a good life, yeah?" she panted against his lips, stroking his cheek lightly.

The Doctor pressed kisses against her chest and collarbone. He nibbled at her clavicle before moving up to press open mouthed kisses against the side of her neck. He kissed a trail up her jaw and to her ear, where he sucked the lobe into his mouth and whispered, "Oh, yes. But much better with two."


End file.
